


Demanding

by ianavi



Series: I have your permission? [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU - John is a scientist, AU - Sherlock is a scientist, Aftercare, Being comforted, Dom!Sherlock, Hand Feeding, Kind of subdrop, Light BDSM, M/M, POV John Watson, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Relationship Negotiation, Sub!John, Subdrop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:37:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5574808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ianavi/pseuds/ianavi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demanding. The past week had wrung him out. Long hours at the lab, video conferences at odd hours with colleagues in a different time zone, an article due. But all of that was nothing compared to his demanding flesh. The first two evenings after seeing Dr. Holmes he'd spent lost in phantasy, kneeling on the floor with his face on the brim of the mattress and edging himself through memories of being held, tied, bitten. Being pinned down by that insistent gaze. Being told he was 'perfect'. Oh, told he was 'perfect', and 'lovely'.</p><p>---</p><p>John's POV of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5554835">Serene</a>. Just a simple exercise in a/symmetry. Fun for me and hopefully for you, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demanding

Demanding. The past week had wrung him out. Long hours at the lab, video conferences at odd hours with colleagues in a different time zone, an article due. But all of that was nothing compared to his demanding flesh.

The first two evenings after seeing Dr. Holmes he'd spent lost in phantasy, kneeling on the floor with his face on the brim of the mattress and edging himself through memories of being held, tied, bitten. Being pinned down by that insistent gaze. Being told he was 'perfect'. Oh, told he was 'perfect', and 'lovely'.

The punishingly long sessions did end in orgasm and allowed him to sink into exhausted sleep. But by Wednesday it was clear this wasn't about orgasms, perhaps not even about sex.

He craved, lusted, for something else entirely.

Trying to keep his focus on his work he was aware he'd lost his appetite and was feeling more and more despondent. He wasn't sleeping well. A night of insomnia ended with fearful sobs into his pillow at dawn.

He'd picked up his phone so many times but didn't want to seem too demanding. Surely such a formidable, composed man would find his neediness off-putting. After all, he had said he'd call to arrange another meeting. He'd kissed John, held him close and said he'd call.

Thursday evening and John was curled up on his couch staring into nothing past the muted television. His chest ached. Or that's what it felt like at least. He was a pitiful man. 

His phone pinged and John jerked up, blanket falling on the floor, hand shaky.

'Dr. Watson, would you perhaps have some free time this weekend? - SH'

And he fucking whimpered.

'I am at your disposal the whole weekend. - John'

Oh, that sounded needy. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and sighed.

'The duration of the whole weekend? Very well. I expect you Friday evening. You know my address. - SH'

He was breathing rapidly and grinning like an idiot.

'I'll be there. Thank you. - John'

He stood up in a rush of excitement. A full 24 hours wait ahead of him. Fuck.

He didn't manage much sleep that night either.

John rode his motorcycle slightly too fast.

And rung the doorbell feeling euphoric.

He barely had time to take off his helmet and try to compose himself a bit when the door opened to frame the man who had occupied his thoughts so persistently in the past days. And he was stunning. Impeccable suit, styled hair. And a pair of properly polished black leather shoes. John was lost for words, smiling foolishly.

"John. Do come in." That grounding voice.

Feeling unexpected bravado John put down his helmet and gloves, unzipped his jacket and waited for permission to climb the stairs.

"Please." He gestured for him to climb up first and followed. Was he watching? Fuck.

Soon, soon now. He tried not to rush up the stairs imagining all the things Dr. Holmes may have planned for him. Restraints? Pain?

As he reached to take off his jacket in the sitting room the man approached him and touched his wrist. He stood close, so close. John was about to lean into him. And then he ran the tips of his fingers very briefly over the edges of the jacket, over John's exposed neck and wrists, taking the garment off with care and determination.

Fuck. John shivered. He was very hard now.

"Please feel at home here John. Anything you might need, just ask."

And he blurted out like and idiot. "Anything?" 

Feeling he may had overstepped he quickly leaned down to take off his boots.

He was pulled up from the floor by strong hands and kissed passionately. John moaned and stretched into the embrace. Finally, finally. He felt expensive wool fabric under his fingers and under it hard muscle. He was grasping, sucking into the most plush lips, breathing in the exquisite combination of expansive soap, tea, man.

Dr. Holmes pulled back and gave him a stern look.

"Have you had dinner?"

John giggled exhilarated. "Are we seriously going to have dinner first?"

One moment. One almost imperceptible flinch on that imposing face.

No, oh no. He felt his stomach drop. The days, hours, minutes of anxiety crashed back onto him.

He cleared his closing throat. "What I meant to say... It has been a long week." Please, please, not like this.

Dr. Holmes was still silent.

"I'd hoped we might..." He was making it worse. Surely the man would send him away in disgust. His breathing became labored as he fought back tears.

Then long fingers wrapped around John's face.

"It has been a long week. For both of us." His voice was softer than John expected.

He didn't dare look up as the man stepped away from him.

"Let's sit down and talk for a moment."

Oh, no.

Dr. Holmes brought glasses and a bottle of sparkling water on a silver tray from the kitchen, taking his time to pour as John nervously settled into one of the armchairs.

"You've agreed to stay here until Sunday." It was not a question.

"Yes." John nodded.

"You are free to leave any time John. Free to leave now if you wish."

Please. His shoulders slumped. No, no he was not leaving, he couldn't bare to leave. He attempted to pull himself together, to fight for a chance to redeem himself. "I'd like to stay." His voice was steadier.

"Good. Very good. This gives us some time together. And I'd like us to get to know each other better." He set his glass down on a side table and leaned back in the armchair, crossing his long legs, straightening the crease of his trousers. John stared at one ankle. Pale gray socks with a silky finish. And blinked. How was he fucking this up, how?

"This will include meals. And rest. And time you may wish to spend apart."

John sat up, determined to salvage the situation he'd created.

"I understand. And I am ready."

"John. You are impatient." The gaze was stern. "And so am I. Very much so. But am not a callous man. We will discuss some things first."

"Of course."

"I asked if you'd like to eat first because it is obvious you rushed here. I'd say a difficult day at the lab, then briefly home, quick shower, shave? Your hair is still damp. You arrived without a bag."

Oh. He was an idiot, a transparent pitiful idiot.

"I doubt you had more than a sandwich at lunch, if that. And it is important to me you are well and able to enjoy our time together." He watched as the man swallowed down the rest of his water and realized he was hungry. "John, we have time. I am not watching you faint from exhaustion tonight."

John simply closed his eyes and lowered his head. He spoke slowly but steadily. He needed, needed... him.

Instead of the humiliation he'd feared he felt relief when he finally openly asked. "It has been a long week. Please."

For too long the man was silent, but when he spoke there was warmth in his voice. "John, if you want something to stop you will use the word 'stop'. Is that clear?"

"Yes. Please, please." It was a wonderful relief to know he did not have to wait long now.

"Come to me." Dr. Holmes gestured towards the floor with his hand.

And John simply dropped to the floor on all fours with an exhale and crawled to press his face against one knee.

He was shivering. With fear. With anticipation.

And the wonderful, generous, understanding man pulled him between his open thighs, cradling him. John sighed into the fabric of the suit.

Small but steady touches. His neck, hair, face. And warm breath against his cheek.

"Oh, my beautiful boy. You bring me so much joy. I will take care of you."

John whimpered.

Breath and kisses on the back of his neck.

"I will take care of you."

It hurt, it fucking hurt to be so exposed. And this was what he'd longed for, this.

His hand lost in a larger one, more kisses, another hand settling firmly on the back of John's neck, its weight so pleasant, so missed. Beautiful.

They stayed like this for a long while.

Slowly, with long minutes, John felt all that tension, angst, distress, all of it, slip away.

Once in a while the hand grasped his neck giving him further reassurance. Oh, it was perfect.

His breathing had calmed a bit but he was still shivering uncontrollably.

With a pleased hum Dr. Holmes pulled him up onto his lap and cradled him to his chest.

"You are mine. Only mine. I will take care of you John."

The promise. John's breath stuttered into a sob against the man's shoulder.

Please.

Held, caressed, protected, cared for. He had never felt anyone's affection like this.

Fingers drew patterns across his back, comforting him, tracing his vertebra, the edge of his shirt collar, running through his hair.

One hand gripped his.

Time passed in warm embrace, tender kisses, reassurance. After a while all the noise, all the strain, all went silent and John could only hear a steady heartbeat. He could have stayed like that forever.

Held. Cared for.

After an embarrassingly long amount of time he finally gathered up enough courage and looked up.

"Thank you."

And he was rewarded with a kiss on the lips and a tender smile.

"This brings me great pleasure, John, you must understand that."

John nodded feeling himself blush.

"Now, how do you feel about a glass of wine?"

"That'd be nice, yes."

Dr. Holmes helped him up and took him by the hand to the kitchen.

He leaned on the table a bit, unsteady on his legs, and watched the man who understood him completely, who was undeterred by his blundering, who now, poised and unconcerned it seemed, took off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves to expose two pale arms.

He then poured two glasses of red wine from a heavy decanter and brought a plate of food from the fridge as John watched unabashedly. He was allowed. His breath stuttered again.

"Something to go with the wine."

It was a beautifully arranged plate of rice-stuffed vine leaves, several kinds of olives and cheeses, small stuffed pastries.

Dr. Holmes took his glass in hand and leaned to smell the wine swirling it in his glass. John felt a stirring of arousal at the sensual sight.

They touched glasses and he took a sip. Warm, potent. He already felt inebriated. He stared at those lips on the edge of the glass.

The briefest of kisses and he was swaying on his feet.

Why did he dispute dinner? What was wrong with him?

"Why don't we take this to the sitting room."

Soon they were settled on the sofa with the wine and food on the table in front of them. Small gestures and touches to help him settle and he suddenly felt so wanted.

"Would you allow me to indulge a little?"

"Anything." Hopeful, what else was there.

"Really? Anything?" Oh, fuck. The dangerous smirk and the low voice. He was now fully aroused.

The man smiled and pulled him closer almost bringing John onto his lap, then reached for a glass.

"Take a sip."

He carefully sipped and swallowed the wine. And with a deep moan the man pulled him closer and bit a kiss into his mouth, wine dripping at the edge of his lips. His hands were resting on athletic thighs and he allowed himself to touch.

"Try this."

A bite of food, an olive, fingers trickling oil. He licked. Bit.

Dr. Holmes smiled appreciatively and brought the fingers to his own mouth to taste. Long fingers.

John shivered. He was getting very uncomfortable in the jeans he had chosen.

They continued like this, small bites of food, licks of tongue, sips of wine, kisses. It felt incredibly intimate, erotic.

His lips were fondled, pressed into, kissed and bitten.

He felt his eyes close as another kiss sucked into his open mouth, another finger pushed in.

It was becoming incredibly difficult not to touch more, demand more.

He felt a bruising kiss on his neck and lost all self-restraint. He was openly moaning, squirming in his tight trousers, pushing his fingers higher up that tantalizing thigh.

He opened his eyes, catching his breath, and was fed another small sip of wine. He was aware he blushing wildly.

"I am enjoying this very much."

John felt embarrassed. "Is it not... demanding?"

A pause. "John, I take pleasure in meeting your needs. All your needs."

He'd been needy, demanding, disrespectful. He'd pushed and pushed.

"I had... been so impatient..."

A heavy hand wrapped around his wrist, uncomfortably.

"Should we work on your patience?"

Yes. This. He managed a small nod.

"There is no rush tonight. We can finish our wine and rest."

A hand clenched his constrained erection with just a bit too much force. Oh. Fuck.

"And in the morning I'd like to discuss discipline play."

John lost himself. His cock was abandoned mid-thrust.

"In the morning. We'll finish our meal now."

More bites of food. A slow rhythm of touches just a tad too tender. He was swaying, still allowed to press his fingers into robust muscle, still allowed short empty thrusts.

It was at once extraordinarily stimulating and still comforting. Perfect.

He was shifted gently to lie down with his head in the man's lap, facing him.

In a daze he looked up to meet an attentive pair of eyes focused only on him and smiled brilliantly, lazily. A hand brushing through his hair. Gentle touches, scratches over his sensitive skin.

"You are so lovely. Perfect for me."

He was good, perfect.

Exhilarated, John groaned loudly. A single thumb caught his mouth and pulled him close to a remarkable erection.

A whisper. "Tomorrow. Patience, John. You're going to do so well, I know it."

And he was to be disciplined for his behaviour. He was allowed.

Fuck.


End file.
